


To Sacrifice, To Suffer

by Siren_Of_Old



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH, Also Otabek is completely unaware of Yuri's feelings, F/M, I don't really hate Mila, I'm so sorry for bashing her, M/M, She's my babe, This is just pure angst, Yuri is just trying to save his friendship, bewarrrrrre, i wrote this for my creative writing class jfc, so please no hate for him either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siren_Of_Old/pseuds/Siren_Of_Old
Summary: The worst thing about having a best friend is the closeness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my Creative Writing class!  
> He said, "Use tension!" 
> 
> All right, bitch, there's your tension!!
> 
> (I'm typing this up in class actually x"D)

The worst thing about having a best friend is the closeness.

They know what your favorite color is, they know how you like your pizza toppings, they know what movies to avoid when it’s their turn to choose for your weekly movie night, and they know you as a person- as a whole.

Which brings Yuri to his current dilemma.

It wasn’t that he hated being close to Otabek; it was the exact opposite. He enjoyed talking to the Kazakhstani man over Skype, relaying how his day at school went as he went through his stretches after his ballet lesson with Ms. Baranovskaya. He appreciated the good morning texts and the messages late at night when Yuri couldn’t get his anxiety to leave him alone; the horrible thoughts roiling around in his head as he stared at the bright white of his phone screen. He liked knowing he had a best friend to be there for him, even if the bastard had moved away after he graduated from their high school, leaving him behind to toil through three more years of pain alone.

What he did hate about the closeness, though, was how easily the man could tell if something was bothering him. He himself never really figured out just how he did it, but there were times when all Yuri had to do was answer a text in a different tone and Otabek would be calling him on Skype.

Which circled back around to the source of Yuri’s pain.

Staring down at his phone, he couldn’t figure out how to write back. He couldn’t say anything because Otabek would notice the change of tone, but he couldn’t just leave him on read like an asshole. Either way Yuri looked at it, he was screwed. With a growl of frustration, he threw his phone across the room, listening when his case broke with a plastic crack, the sound deafening in his mostly quiet bedroom.

He curled up on his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face into them. He ignored Sasha when she came up to rub against his side, purring into his ear. He just nudged her away with his elbow, his chest clenching with a horrible feeling. Clutching his hand over top of his heart, he blinked the hot, stinging tears from his eyes when he realized that it was some mixture of rejection and anger and sadness, all rolled up into a weight that pressed down on his chest.

His best friend had a girlfriend.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri first figured out that he was bisexual when he was in middle school. Even then, Otabek had been ever-present, assisting the smaller, blond-haired boy through his anxiety-induced fist fights and aversion for social interaction.

They’d met in Ms. Baranovskaya’s ballet class for novices. They’d been forced to work in pairs to further their abilities by her, their protests going unheard as she glared down at them with hawk eyes. Well, it was actually to further Otabek’s abilities, more than Yuri’s. Yuri was excellent, even at age ten, while Otabek… well, let’s just say that Otabek was about as flexible as a steel pipe.

Through grueling trainings with Ms. Baranovskaya and stretches against the ballet bar in class, the two boys slowly came together as friends. They started eating lunch together in the school’s cafeteria, Yuri stealing Otabek’s pudding every time. They also began to spend time at each other’s homes, practicing their routines for class and playing video games when Otabek finally gave up at his arabesque. Yuri’s grandfather Nikolai adored how well his usually socially inept grandson was doing, and the same could be said for Otabek’s parents.

Anyways.

Yuri first guessed that he liked boys when he first met Viktor, a senior student from the high school. He’d came into Ms. Baranovskaya’s class to teach the novice class a few things that she herself couldn’t do in her older age. Yuri had found himself staring in wonder as the older student gracefully held himself, his platinum hair trailing down his back in a ponytail. He knew he wound up staring more than the rest of the class, his heart beating almost painfully fast in his chest. Even Otabek had commented upon it once or twice, wiping sweat away from his forehead on their break. It had made Yuri blush bright red as he tried to keep his shining green eyes away from Viktor.

This carried on for the entire week that the silver haired student helped Ms. Baranovskaya with the class. Yuri watched him as he danced in front of the class, pointing out how to hold their arms, or move their legs, all while smiling with this wide heart-shaped smile on his handsome face.

Yuri had been devastated to learn that the older student had a boyfriend already, who’d came to pick him up the day that Yuri decided he would finally confess his feelings to Viktor. Imagine that; a tiny twelve-year-old, barely on the cusp of thirteen, shuffling up to his crush-heart beating far too quickly, his mouth dry when Viktor smiled down at him with that cute, heart shaped smile- only to be interrupted by a black haired man coming up to peck Viktor on the cheek. Yuri had to watch as his crush turned from him to press that heart-shaped smile to the other man’s mouth, smiling at him instead of Yuri.

He’d ran, tossing the confessional letter he’d written into the trash after tearing it into pieces, his chest hot and tight as he tried to keep his tears in.

Only when he returned home did he let them out, curled up under his covers as the they made hot, wet trails down his cheeks and over his nose to fall onto his pillow. He tried to ignore the feeling in his chest, the harsh throbbing in his head from his tears.

He skipped the last day of class that Viktor would be teaching, opting to stay home with his grandfather and watch old Russian soap operas on the television, letting his grandfather’s low voice wash over him like a comforting blanket.

 

* * *

 

 

His phone chimed across the room, pulling him from his memories to the fading light of his bedroom. Sasha was at the foot of his bed, her head curled around his ankle as she slept quietly. He felt a sort of wetness on his face and realized with a spark of anger that he’d been crying while he’d been lost in his mind. Grumbling to himself, he gently pushed Sasha off his foot, rubbing her soft ear before he stood, his head spinning lightly from all the crying he’d done.

Rubbing at his face with his palm, he searched for his tissue box. He found it underneath a discarded tee shirt on his dresser, pulling three tissues out in quick succession. Hastily, he wiped his face to rid it of the uncomfortable feeling of drying tears before blowing his nose loudly in the dim quiet. Sasha mewled in protest of the noise from his bed.

“Deal with it,” he muttered at her, tossing his used tissues into his wastebasket. Shuffling over to the other side of the room, he stooped to pick up his phone. The tiger’s print phone case was cracked, but only a little bit, right near the power button on the side. Sighing, he plopped down on the floor to stare down at his screen.

**From: Otabek (17:45)**

_Yura, Mila said yes to me! I’ve got a girlfriend now!_

**From: Otabek (18:03)**

_Yura?_

“Fuck,” Yuri smacked his forehead with his phone a couple of times, wincing at the sting of cut plastic hitting his skin. He pulled the case off of his phone, tossing it towards his dresser as he stared down at his screen. He bit his lip harshly, wondering what he should say to him.

He laughed dryly at the thought of just sending a quiet ‘congrats’. He didn’t want to congratulate Otabek, even though he knew he really should. He should be overjoyed that his best friend finally had someone to spend all his time with, to lay all his cheesy romance ideas on. That his friend finally had someone to hold on cold winter nights, someone’s temple to press gentle kisses on.

The tears bubbled up again, making Yuri’s chin quiver as he locked his phone and set it aside gently. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he hiccupped. He wished that he could feel happy for Otabek, wished that he could just tell him that he was glad he had someone in his life now.

Instead, here he was, crying on the floor of his bedroom, his chest feeling just like it did when he was twelve years old, crying over that dumb silver-haired man. Except it was amplified more.

Because Viktor had been a complete stranger when he fell in love with him.

Otabek was his best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

He came out of the closet when he turned sixteen, just a couple days after his birthday to be exact.

He’d told his grandfather first, terrified of what the elderly man would think. Nikolai was old Russia; their views had been pounded into him before he and Yuri’s grandmother made the great trek to America, land of the free. Yuri didn’t know where his grandfather stood on the issue of gay rights. Yuri wasn’t sure what his grandfather would think of him liking boys, let alone boys _and_ girls.

“What is it?” Nikolai had asked the morning that Yuri had decided to tell him, staring at Yuri from across the breakfast table. Yuri had nearly stopped breathing, frozen as he realized that he’d been fidgeting in his seat, picking at his scrambled eggs and sausage. A warm smile and concerned eyes shown across the table and he felt his throat go dry. “Do you not feel well, Yuratchka?”

Setting his fork down against his plate, Yuri cleared his throat timidly. “Grandpa, I have to tell you something important.”

Nikolai set down his own silverware, turning his full attention onto his grandson. He gestured at Yuri with one hand. “Well, go on then.”

Yuri’s nails bit crescent moons into his palms as he stared back at his grandfather, the man’s face kind and patient, if not a little worried. He took a deep breath to steady himself, his fists curling even tighter in his lap. “Grandpa, I- I’m bisexual. I like both boys and girls.”

He squeezed his eyes shut in terror, the back of his neck sweating with panic. There was a moment of silence before Nikolai’s chair scraped as he stood. Yuri could feel the tears already coming as he imagined his grandfather telling him to go pack, or worse, backhanding him across the face for such a disgusti-

Arms encircled Yuri and his eyes sprung open in surprise as his face was pressed into Nikolai’s chest. He let out a tiny sob as his grandfather’s cologne filled his nose, the familiar scent of woods and clean soap washing over him as a comfort. His arms came up to grip the coarse material of Nikolai’s flannel, pressing his face further into his chest. Nikolai hummed as he petted his grandson’s blond hair.

“Yuri, you are my only grandchild,” Nikolai murmured, his beard scratchy against Yuri’s forehead as the man stooped to place an affectionate kiss on the crown of his head. “You are my _blood_. I could never hate you for being yourself, no matter what Russia or the rest of the world says.”

Yuri let out a tiny wail, clinging tighter to his grandfather. “I was so worried. I thought you would make me leave.”

“Never, Yuratchka.” Nikolai said in a steady voice, gently rocking the two of them side to side. Yuri cried himself to exhaustion that night, his eyes stinging every time he rubbed at them to try and stop the tears.

He told Otabek the next day, along with Viktor and Yuuri- Viktor’s then-fiancé, now husband. Viktor and Yuuri had accepted him quickly, stating that he was safe with them, and that they had his back and loved him no matter what. They’d all cried a bit, laughing happily as Yuri told them about how Viktor had been his sexual awakening. The platinum-haired man hadn’t known at all, and while he apologized profusely for the pain he caused, Yuri couldn’t find himself to be hurt anymore. Curled up between the two in a hug, he was glad that he’d fallen out of love with Viktor. He was content to have him as a friend, with Yuuri a warm presence beside him.

Otabek’s reaction had been significantly less emotional; there were no watery smiles from Yuuri, no overdramatic sobs into his shoulder from Viktor. He told Otabek face-to-face, trying to keep his stoic mask from slipping. The Kazakh man had stood there, staring at his best friend for the longest time. Yuri had been just about to turn to walk away when Otabek’s mouth curved up into a small smile.

“You’re still Yuri to me,” he’d said, and the sentence rings through Yuri’s head over and over and over-

 

* * *

 

 

Another ping brings him back to where he sat, his legs starting to go a bit numb where they’re curled under his body weight. Wincing at the tingling sensation, he shifted so that he could stretch them out, staring down at his bony ankles instead of looking at his phone.

Instead of easing Otabek’s worry, Yuri only added to it as he sat back away from the phone.

He knew it was selfish. He nodded to himself as he wrapped his arms around his waist, the warmth of his palms somewhat comforting on his sides. Otabek deserved to be happy, deserved to be congratulated with a smile and joyful heart.

Yet, here he was, letting the pain of rejection ( _rejection_! He hadn’t even _confessed_! But, then again, now he may never be able to) wash over him. It was selfish, and it was so _so_ painful to know that Otabek was with her, with that dumb _Mila_. He couldn’t believe it; didn’t really want to at all.

Sasha made her way over to Yuri, meowing at him as she curled her head into the crook of his ankle. He stared down at her, the tears in his eyes blurring her white and black fur together. He chuckled when she nipped at the edge of his sock, purring in small puffs against his skin.

“What should I do, Sasha?” Yuri whispered, leaning forward. He carded a gentle hand over the top of her head, smiling weakly when she leaned into the caress, her whiskers twitching. “I can’t let him know how much he’s hurt me. He’ll never forgive himself.”

Blue eyes stared up at him and he thought he saw criticism in them. He scoffed at both her and himself, throwing himself back against the floor, his face screwing up in a grimace as his tears continued to fall. They dripped down his face into his blond hair in itchy patterns, just serving to make him more and more annoyed. Huffing, he threw his hands up in the air.

“I don’t know what to do!” He exclaimed, pressing the heels of his palms into his closed eyes. Colors bloomed and bled behind the darkness and he sniffled in despair when Sasha rubbed up against his side, purring away. He peeled his hands away from his face and stared down at her. “Sasha, why did this have to happen?”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri first realized that he was in love with Otabek when he finally turned seventeen. They’d been together, celebrating Otabek’s twentieth birthday with a long night of video games and horror movies at the Kazakh man’s studio apartment.

He remembered it clearly, the exact moment that he finally figured it out. He’d been seated on Otabek’s ratty, second-hand loveseat, his feet kicked up over the arm rest. His elbow had been digging into a spring from beneath the cushion, his fingers going a little numb around the Wii controller in his hand. Otabek had been beside him, leaning forward with both of his forearms on his knees while he squinted at the television with concentration.

“Guess who’s gonna lose this round again?” Yuri teased, glancing over at Otabek while his Link beat the crap out of Otabek’s Princess Peach on the screen. Otabek made an uneasy noise, leaning forward even further, as though he might dive into the television to help Peach himself.

“God, damn it, Yuri!” Otabek cried as his Peach went flying from the platform, the game stating the Link had won this round. Yuri cheered, throwing his hands up and sliding off the couch as his balance was lost. Otabek kicked at him playfully, scowling lightly. “How the fuck are you so good at Smash Bros?”

“I’m just the best at everything,” Yuri laughed breathlessly from the floor, throwing his hand over his face to protect himself from Otabek’s socked foot. “Get that nasty thing away from me!”

“Get off my floor then,” Otabek retorted, smirking when Yuri stuck his tongue out at him. “I don’t like trash being on my floor.”

“Hey!” Yuri dove at Otabek, slamming his fist into the man’s shins. Otabek winced, but continued smirking as Yuri glared at him. “I’m refined trash.”

“Sure you are. Are you going to get back up here so I can finally win?”

Yuri groaned, pulling himself up from the floor. He plopped back down on the couch, tossing his feet up into Otabek’s lap while he grabbed his discarded controller. “Let’s go, motherfucker. Ready to get annihilated?”

Otabek made a humming noise, resting his wrists against Yuri’s ankles while he chose his new character. Yuri snuck a glance over at him, his smirk sliding from his face as his heart pounded in his chest.

Staring at Otabek, the boy realized that he wanted to be with him forever like this, just happiness and closeness. His face felt hot as he took in how handsome his best friend had become since they were kids, his facial features sharpening even as his eyes still held that same warmth. Swallowing thickly, he pressed his controller to his chest to try and ease the seemingly hot emotion that flooded through him.

“You okay?”

Yuri shook his head, trying to clear his head as his gaze met Otabek’s. His dark brown eyes were warm and full of concern, his brow draw into a tiny crease. Yuri felt like he was dying, but that was okay.

He was in love with his best friend.

Yuri smiled timidly, nodding. “Yeah. I think I just hit the floor a little too hard.”

Otabek made a tiny noise, reaching towards him to feel over the back of his head. Yuri tried not to swoon as Otabek’s familiar cologne washed over him, his hand warm in Yuri’s hair. His fingers rubbed at his scalp, probably feeling for a goose egg, but Yuri could care less. “I don’t feel a bump, but you look dazed. Are you dizzy?”

Yuri shook his head, his eyes taking in the way Otabek stared down at him. “I’m fine, Beka. Let’s just get around to your next ass beating.”

Otabek smirked then, his eyes glistening with mischief. “You wish. I’ll beat you this time.”

Yuri smiled up at him, pointing his controller at him. “Loser has to order food later.”

“Get your phone ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sasha mewed into Yuri’s hair as she settled beside his head, her cold nose nudging up against the underside of his jaw. Yuri winced at the feel, shrugging his shoulder to try and dislodge her. When she made no indication of moving, he just sighed and wiped his runny nose on his wrist.

“I’m sick of feeling like this,” he muttered to no one, staring up at the blank white of his ceiling. “I’m sick of loving people who don’t love me back.”

Sacha purred in his ear, nuzzling against him and he wanted to cry again. He turned his face into her fur, bringing a hand up to pet her tail. He stared down into white fur, his chest tightening as he realized that sooner or later, he would have to text Otabek back. He couldn’t just leave him high and dry. Sure, he was in pain, but it wasn’t Otabek’s fault. Otabek didn’t even know.

He never will know, Yuri promised himself as he sat up slowly, Sasha giving a tiny disgruntled sound at the movement. Carefully, he picked his phone back up and unlocked it with a swift swipe of his thumb.

**From: Otabek (17:45)**

_Yura, Mila said yes to me! I’ve got a girlfriend now!_

**From: Otabek (18:03)**

_Yura?_

**From: Otabek (18:31)**

_Yura, are you okay?_

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled up his keyboard. His fingers trembled as he typed out his message. Sending it, he locked the phone again and set it down by his side. He pulled Sasha into his lap, pressing his fingers into her fur as he waited for Otabek’s reply. His chest tightened harshly when there was an almost immediate ping, the sound seemingly mocking him. He let the phone sit there for a second, staring down at the lit up screen displaying Otabek’s name on his lock screen. Clenching his jaw, he picked up his phone, refusing to continue crying.

**To: Otabek (18:32)**

_Sorry, I glanced at it and then Grandpa asked me to help with dinner for a bit. Congratulations! Tell me what happened._

**From: Otabek (18:32)**

_Okay! I’m sorry for texting before dinner, I didn’t realize. Let me start from the beginning._

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and Kudos as you please!! ^.^


End file.
